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Last night, while witnessing Kentucky dismantle/curb-stomp West Virginia, I came across this tweet from TotalFratMove’s Dillon Cheverere:
The way bench players react when their teammate throws down a huge dunk, I need that in my everyday life. And I need it now.
— Roger Dorn (@RogerJDorn) March 27, 2015
Wise words, and you know what Dillon: we all need that in our everyday life. You can give yourself all the Tiger Woods fist pumps you want, but sometimes you just need the squad to get pumped about your accomplishment even more than you already are. Now, it is most likely “impractical” and “inappropriate” to have your coworkers or friends enact such a celebration during your most triumphant moments, but let’s pretend for a minute that you’ve got a group of five scholarship guys and three GPA boosters that follow you around everywhere just ready to celebrate, what would they get amped about?
Walking Out of the Office for the Weekend
You made it through another day, and you’re cruising out of the office 15 minutes early, but no one stops you. Boom, you kick through the front doors and head to your car, start that bitch, and you don’t have to get gas on the way home. Nothing stands between you and happy hour, and little do you know, your boss was going to ask you to come in on Saturday. Oops. When he couldn’t find you, he made Jeff down the hall come in. And Jeff is an absolute dick. Your traveling bench pulls the “quickly stand with a fist pump,” and the whitest guy at the end of the bench lets out a shriek.
Taking Your Perfect Mid-Day Work Shit
11:30 rolls around, and between the breakfast tacos and three cups of coffee, you’re ready to annihilate your office crapper. And dammit, it just turns out perfect. Not a single person walks in to ruin your peace, you get to leisurely scroll through your entire Twitter feed, and when you rip your first handful of shit-tickets, despite the abomination that just left your body, somehow they come out cleaner than Howie Mandel’s scalp. That’s right, you just completed a phantom, otherwise known as a ghost dump. You open the door, realizing that you took so long that you can now actually just go straight to lunch, and your bench fucking loses it, highlighted by the guy pulling his jersey halfway up his face in disbelief.
Extra Fast Food
Your bench looks a little deflated. It’s 2 am and you haven’t given them much to celebrate about during this night out at the bar. They certainly weren’t too impressed when your Patron shot gave you five minutes of the mouth sweats, nor when your card got declined trying to buy that hard four brunette a drink. Now, after calmly telling your Uber driver that you’re hungry (you shouted at him, and covered his face in spit), you’ve gone through the Taco Bell drive-thru and are back home. You unpack your cheap sort-of-Mexican food and….wait what….you got an extra Cheesy Gordita Crunch, and didn’t get charged for it? The bench goes wild, the 6th man starts high stepping down the sideline, and even the coach shows a little emotion.
That Girl Returned Your Text
Lately you’ve been as effective at getting women to positively respond to you about a date or hanging out as Aaron Hernandez is at hiding incriminating evidence. At the most, you can get a “yeah, maybe, let me see what my girls want to do, I’ll let you know,” but she obviously won’t be letting you know. But not tonight. Tonight you ask the girl you semi-remember meeting downtown a few weeks ago if she wants to hang out. She says she’d love to, with an exclamation point and even a fucking emoji. She’s more of a sure thing than the aforementioned Aaron Hernandez doing some solid jail time. The bench can barely contain themselves, they’re halfway out on the court or standing on their chairs, and you’re the king of the world right now.
Making a Sale
After weeks of working this bastard like Don “The Goods” Ready, he’s signing his name on the dotted line. It doesn’t matter what you sell, the point is this person trusts your shitty ass enough to make a purchase from you, and you’re seconds away from some hard-earned commission, or at least a favorable performance review. Your buyer’s John Hancock hits the page and it’s chaos on the bench. One of the GPA boosting guys literally peed himself, jerseys are ripped off, the 6th man is making out with a grandma in the stands, and your coach is lying on the ground. Someone check his pulse. It’s pandemonium, and as you tug your company logo polo and flash it to the crowd, you turn around and go play defense. That means paperwork. Go finish it up, asshole.
If you manage to cram all of these accomplishments into one day, your personal bench likely resembles the first row at the dunk contest, minus the hipster attire and ironic beards. Now go out there and throw it down..